Valentine I: Blood Drive
by Celli
Summary: JAG is hosting a Valentine's Day blood drive, and hilarity ensues. At least, that was the original concept... First in a three-part series.


Blood Drive  
By Celli Lane  
  
Feedback: Positive or negative both welcome. celli@fanfiction.net  
Pairing: Harm/Mac  
Category: Story, Romance, Humor  
Rating: PG-13  
Spoiler: Nothing explicit, but anything that's aired in the US is fair game.   
Takes place shortly after "Head to Toe."  
Summary: JAG is hosting a Valentine's Day blood drive, and hilarity ensues. At   
least, that was the original concept...  
Archiving: Just let me know where so I can come visit it.  
Disclaimer: If JAG belonged to me, Webb would have more interesting things to   
occupy his time with than silly national security, I tell ya...nope, all these   
guys belong to DPB, Paramount, and CBS.  
Warning: If you don't like needles or blood, think twice before you read this.  
  
***  
  
14 FEB 2002  
0500 ZULU  
JAG HEADQUARTERS-CONFERENCE ROOM  
FALLS CHURCH, VA  
  
"...Article 32 hearing," Admiral Chegwidden finished as he handed files to   
Sturgis and Harm. "Well, I think that's the last of the new cases. Anything   
else, Lt. Simms?"  
  
"The blood drive, sir," Harriet reminded him.  
  
"Oh, right. The local blood center will be here from 1300 to 1500 this   
afternoon for--" the Admiral's voice dripped with scorn, "--a Valentine's Day   
blood drive. Participation is encouraged but not mandatory. But if you're not   
giving blood, I suggest you stay in your offices, because it's going to be a bit   
crowded in here. God knows I will," he added under his breath.  
  
He stood, and the rest of the staff followed his lead. Sturgis pulled Harm off   
to the side with a question about their case as the rest filed out.  
  
"Will you be donating today, Petty Officer?" Mac asked Tiner.  
  
"No, ma'am. I donate platelets, and it takes two hours. I'll be overseeing the   
blood drive from our end."  
  
"Two hours? How does that work?"  
  
As Tiner launched into a long-winded description involving a centrifuge, saline,   
and a needle in each arm, Mac noticed Harm behind them, listening. He looked   
sort of..."Harm? Are you sweating?"  
  
"Huh?" Harm scrubbed at his forehead. "No, I'm fine. It, just, ah..." He   
broke off, laughing at himself. "It was the second needle that got to me, I   
think."  
  
"Harm, you're not afraid of needles, are you?"  
  
"I don't think afraid is the right word." He was wearing that wide-eyed   
'Mayday' look of his. "I've been around them often enough, in my various--"  
  
"Adventures?"  
  
Harm fixed Mac with a look. "Let's just say I don't like them."  
  
"Well, sir," Tiner broke in, "I don't know many people who actually enjoy being   
poked with a sharp object and watching their blood--"  
  
Harm swallowed audibly.  
  
"Thank you, Petty Officer," Mac said quickly.  
  
"Yes, ma'am." Tiner hurried off. Mac turned back to Harm.  
  
"So does this mean you won't be donating today?"  
  
Harm drew himself up to his full height. "No, I can do it." His eyes widened   
again. "I just don't have to look while the needle's in, right?"  
  
Mac started laughing, then broke off when she saw the pointed look Sturgis was   
giving her over Harm's shoulder. "You'll be fine," she said abruptly.   
"Commander Turner, can I talk to you for a minute?"  
  
She followed Sturgis into her office and closed the door carefully--Lt. Singer   
had some kind of homing instinct when it came to hushed conversations.  
  
"Mac, what's going on?"  
  
She rounded on him. "Sturgis! This has to stop!"  
  
He shrugged. "What am I doing?"  
  
"You keep...looking at me, and at Harm." Some small part of her brain informed   
her that she sounded ridiculous. "Someone's going to say something. *Harm* is   
going to say something."  
  
"Just a second here. First of all, no one is noticing anything. I'm a lawyer,   
Mac. I do have some small amount of self-control."  
  
Yes. Completely ridiculous. "That's not what I meant--"  
  
"Second...correct me if I'm wrong, but don't you *want* Harm to say something?"  
  
She gaped at him.  
  
***  
  
14 FEB 2002  
0845 ZULU  
JAG HEADQUARTERS--BULLPEN  
FALLS CHURCH, VA  
  
Harm stepped out of his office and stared at the mass of people crowded into the   
bullpen. Temporary walls had been erected in several corners, creating mini-  
cubicles with at least an illusion of privacy. Tiner and Harriet were directing   
traffic near him, and there was a cluster of chairs in the center. Everyone   
sitting in a chair had their sleeve rolled up and a--  
  
He looked quickly at Harriet. "Where do I sign up?" he asked, trying to look   
mildly curious instead of mildly nauseated.  
  
"Oh! Right over here, Commander," she said brightly, guiding him into one of   
the makeshift offices. A tired-looking young man in a lab coat blinked up at   
him. His nametag read "Shane."  
  
"Here to donate? Great. Have a seat. You feeling well and healthy today?" he   
asked, with a rapid delivery an auctioneer might envy.  
  
"Ah, yes, thank you," Harm said a bit uncertainly. "Lieutenant, has Colonel   
MacKenzie donated yet?"  
  
"No, sir. She should be here in a few minutes," Harriet said as Shane finished   
a spiel about "personal questions" and "required by law."  
  
"Have you ever given anyone money or drugs in exchange for sex?"  
  
"What?" Harm demanded. Then his brain registered: right. They had to ask   
everyone these questions. "Oh. No."  
  
"Have you ever had a positive test for AIDS or the AIDS virus?"  
  
"No."  
  
...And so it went, until Harm's eyes had started to glaze over and even the   
anxiety about the upcoming needle couldn't keep him focused. He occupied his   
legal hindbrain by wondering how, if the "don't ask, don't tell" policy was in   
effect, a blood drive on military property could ask "Have you had sex, even   
once, since 1977 with another man?" He had argued both sides of the case with   
himself--rather well, he thought--by the time the lifestyle questions were   
almost over.  
  
"Have you been outside the United States or Canada within the last 12 months?"  
  
Harm jerked his brain back. "Yes."  
  
"Which countries?" Shane held a pen poised and ready.  
  
"In 12 months?" Harm thought back a year. "Bahrain, Mexico, China..." *One   
very cold night in the middle of the Atlantic,* he thought. "Ah, do carriers   
count? There was one in the Indian Ocean..."  
  
Shane's pen was moving faster and faster.  
  
"Don't forget Saudi Arabia," came a voice from behind the wall.  
  
"Thanks, Mac," Harm said.  
  
"Is that all of them?" Shane asked with just a bit of desperation.  
  
"I think so."  
  
"Good. Now on to medical history..."  
  
Harm sighed.  
  
***  
  
Mac's donor technician was an older woman with salt-and-pepper hair. She   
rattled through the questions, barely blinking at the long list of foreign   
countries visited.   
  
"Sign here, please. It looks like all the chairs are full; if you wait here for   
just a minute..."  
  
"Sure." Mac looked over at the personnel donating. Someone was in the process   
of wrapping a remarkably bright purple bandage around Harriet's arm. Sturgis   
was joking with the technician monitoring his donation. And Harm was there,   
too, looking just a bit pale, but she wasn't ready to talk to him just yet. She   
walked over to Sturgis. "Hey."  
  
He looked surprised. "Hi there."  
  
"I just wanted to...I'm sorry about earlier. I must have sounded..."  
  
"Frustrated," he finished for her. "It's okay. You know, Mac--"  
  
She shook her head. "Not right now, okay?" The tech was motioning her to   
Harriet's chair. Of course it was right next to Harm's. She grimaced slightly   
and walked over. She would be normal and cheerful if it killed her, dammit.  
  
***  
  
"Okay, sir. You're all done here. Just let me get the needle out--"  
  
Harm looked away, but he could still feel the needle leaving his arm. His   
stomach lurched.  
  
"Thank you," he managed in a voice that was only slightly husky.  
  
"No prob," Shane said as he slapped a neon green bandage around Harm's elbow.   
"Stand up slow. Drink lots of liquids, don't lift anything too heavy, and eat a   
cookie, okay?"  
  
"Um...yeah." Harm blinked a couple of times, shook his head (his ears were   
ringing for some reason), and started to stand up. Oh, maybe not quite yet. He   
leaned back in the chair. *At least you got through it without embarrassing   
yourself,* he thought.  
  
"You did it!" Harm looked over as Mac settled into the chair next to him. "Not   
bad, Commander."  
  
"Why, thank you, Colonel." Harm grinned. He barely noticed the woman rubbing   
iodine onto Mac's elbow.  
  
"You remembered to eat something, right?" Mac said. "They have tomato juice   
over with the cookies."  
  
"Oh, yeah, I--" Harm looked down to answer her just as the technician slid the   
needle into a vein. He jumped up without thinking about it.  
  
Mac made a strangled sound as Harm's eyes rolled back in his head. Only the lab   
tech's solid grip on the arm with the needle in it kept her from jumping out of   
*her* seat.  
  
Shane, with a look of world-weariness on his face, eased Harm back into his   
chair. "Told you to stand up slow," he grumbled.  
  
***  
  
Harm opened one eye cautiously. When everything had settled a bit, he opened   
the other. Tiner, Harriet, and Mac were all hovering over him.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Commander?"  
  
"Harm!"  
  
"What happened?" he managed.  
  
"You fain--uh, passed out," Harriet said.  
  
"You were out for a long time!" Tiner added.  
  
"Eight minutes and thirty-seven seconds," Mac said. She leaned forward and   
spoke so low only Harm could hear her. "It just seemed like forever."  
  
When her eyes met his, Harm thought the room would start spinning again. He   
looked away and forced a smile. "I'm fine. Mildly embarrassed, but fine."  
  
He escaped into his office and leaned against his desk. His mind was racing.   
He should be mortified at that display of weakness. What had he said once,   
"Lose control in my world and you die?" Or something asinine like that. But--  
  
He looked through the blinds. Mac was still staring in his direction. She'd   
never looked at him like that, not in public. Suddenly the ringing in his ears   
seemed more hopeful than humiliating. If passing out was the price to pay for   
that, well..."Bring on the needles," he murmured.  
  
----the end--  
  
***  
  
Author's Notes: I wrote most of this while donating platelets on (you guessed   
it) Valentine's Day...so if you don't like it, maybe we can blame the blood   
loss. :) (And in case it's misunderstood, I highly recommend donating blood.   
How else can you save someone's life *and* get cookies??) Special thanks to Jen   
and Packrat, who beta-read for me, and the JAG Writers Workshop list.  
  
Story Notes: I took the teeniest bit of dramatic license with the questions   
Harm is asked. Also, it's very likely that between their travels and some of   
their more interesting medical experiences, Harm and Mac would be unable to   
donate blood. So we're ignoring that. 


End file.
